


I won't sleep if you won't sleep

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Future Fic, Insomnia, M/M, Mild Angst, Post-Nogitsune, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: After the nogitsune, Stiles is unable to sleep. To help, he has a spell cast on him that will link him with Derek.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I intended this to be a bedsharing fic, but it’s more of sleeping and snuggling fic. Oh, well.

“You all understand the purpose of the spell, and what it entails,” Deaton says, looking around the room. “Right?”

Scott, looking guilty, gives a little nod, and everyone else follows suit. This has to be the strangest intervention Derek has ever been to.

He glances over at Erica, who’s leaning casually in the corner, and then to Isaac, who is crossing his arms nervously. Boyd is staring thoughtfully, Scott is looking sadly at Stiles, and Stiles…

Stiles looks tired.

Stiles has looked tired for weeks, and now appears more like a wax figure, pale and drawn. There’s a can of Red Bull on the exam table next to him, sitting by a pile of several kinds of sleeping pills. Apparently, none of them have worked.

Which is why they’re all here.

“You have an important choice to make,” Deaton says, turning to Stiles. “Let’s discuss it in my office.”

Stiles slowly nods, and follows Deaton lethargically through the door.

Derek tries to listen in, curious, but of course Deaton has his office soundproofed. No prying werewolf ears allowed.

There’s a long, drawn out silence in the exam room, with everyone staring at each other speculatively.

Derek thinks Stiles is going to pick Scott. They have a long history, and they trust each other. He’s the logical choice.

After an endless time that’s probably only ten minutes, the door opens.

“…You’ll keep that in mind?” Deaton is saying as he steps out.

“Yeah,” Stiles answers quietly.

Deaton comes out alone, pushes the door shut behind him. He walks over to the waiting group, smiling his little enigmatic smile. “Stiles has requested Derek for the spell.”

Though he tries hard to hide it, Derek knows his surprise is evident. Stiles picked _him_?

“Derek, do you accept?” Deaton asks.

“Yes,” Derek says quickly. Because surprised or not, there’s no hesitation in him. He’ll do whatever he needs to if it’ll help Stiles.

“All the rest of you may leave,” Deaton says, glancing around at everyone. He stares at Derek thoughtfully while they all file out.

“Derek, you understand what this involves?” he asks after a moment, obviously waiting for the others to be out of hearing range.

“It’ll link Stiles and I together,” Derek says. “So that if I sleep, he’ll sleep.”

“Essentially,” Deaton says with a little nod. “It’s not a complex bond. It’s only purpose is to make it possible for him to actually sleep.”

“Will it transmit pain?” Derek asks.

“No,” Deaton says immediately, and Derek feels his shoulders sag with relief. “You may initially feel a small bit of what he does, but it will only really run one way.”

“What if he’s tired, but I’m not?”

“The bond will make things easier. If you want to sleep, you will be able to. Besides, you only need to fall asleep for Stiles to do the same. It won’t matter if you wake up five minutes later, he won’t be effected,” Deaton says calmly.

Derek nods, thoughtful.

“Any more questions?” Deaton asks.

Derek is certainly curious about other elements of the spell, but he’s afraid it’ll seem like he’s hedging if he asks. And Stiles is worn so thin already, Derek can’t stand the idea of wasting more time. “No,” he says firmly.

“All right,” Deaton says agreeably. “Just follow me.”

He trails Deaton into the office, where Stiles, curled up in one of the chairs, gives him a faint, hopeful look. It’s the most expression Derek’s seen from him in a while, so he’s more than willing to accept it, sending Stiles a small smile in return.

Deaton gestures Derek to the chair next to Stiles. “Have a seat, I’ll get this mixed.” He gives them an assessing glance. “You’ll need to be holding his hand.”

Derek moves immediately, sitting next to Stiles with his hand already outstretched. Stiles looks a little unsure, blinking rapidly for a moment before carefully fitting his palm against Derek’s. Derek gently squeezes, noting the way Stiles’ lips quirk up, just a little, before he squeezes back.

“Okay,” Deaton says, returning with two small vials. They smell of sage and lemongrass, a strangely pleasant combination. “You’ll need to drink these at the same time.”

Derek turns to Stiles, and they both look at each other for a long moment, before tipping back the vials in unison.

There’s an instant where Derek thinks nothing is going to happen, then an ice-cold wave is rolling over him, pressing him down, smothering him. He can’t move, can’t breathe, and the overwhelming helplessness of it makes him want to lash out, makes him want to fight his way free.

Then it’s gone, and he’s blinking at Stiles, who looks equally dazed.

“Take a couple of minutes,” Deaton says. “Then you can head home, and get some rest.”

Derek suddenly realizes that he’s gripping Stiles’ hand really tightly, and tries to let go. But Stiles shoots him a scared look when he does, so he just softens his hold instead, and runs his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand.

He takes a deep breath, drags his gaze from Stiles’ exhausted features. He watches Deaton pack up his powders and put his books away. He gives them both another small smile before he goes, leaving the office door open.

Stiles clears his throat, and it draws Derek’s attention back. “Are we, um, sleeping at the loft for this?”

“If you’d like to,” Derek says. If Stiles would rather be in his bedroom, he’s fine with that, too.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, nodding. “Seems easiest. I’m ready to go,” he adds quietly. “If you are.”

“I am,” Derek says, supporting Stiles as he stands, letting him lean against his shoulder.

Stiles gives up his hand with a resigned sigh, clearly not wanting to let go when he has to get into the Camaro. He throws himself carelessly into the seat, tipping his head back and letting his eyes slide shut.

Derek glances over as he buckles himself in, then heads for the loft as quickly and safely as he can. Stiles is so exhausted he even _smells_ tired, something Derek didn’t think was even possible.

When he pulls into the parking lot, Stiles is slumped against the window, staring at nothing. He seems unfocused when Derek tries to get his attention, so he just picks Stiles up and carries him inside.

The sooner they get to the bed, the sooner Stiles can finally rest.

Stiles seems to revive a little at the contact, looking more alert by the time they make it to the bedroom. He carefully sets Stiles down by the bed, making sure he’s steady on his feet before he lets go. He hands him a set of pajamas, before turning away to put on his own. He looks over his shoulder when he’s done, and is relieved to see Stiles in his plaid lounge pants and soft, old shirt.

He looks really ready to sleep.

“Well, come on,” Derek says softly, pulling the covers back.

When Stiles just stares at him, hesitating, Derek climbs in and pats the spot next to him encouragingly. “You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he says.

“Don’t want to,” Stiles says with a faint grin, and sits cautiously on the edge of the bed. “Can I, um. Would you let me—”

Derek lets out a sigh loud enough to interrupt Stiles, then reaches out and pulls him closer. But he freezes halfway, and says, “Is this okay?”

Stiles just finishes the action himself, curling up against Derek’s side. “Is _this_ okay?” he mumbles against Derek’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Derek answers quietly, sliding an arm around Stiles and holding him close.

He tucks the blankets in around them, then he closes his eyes and lets himself drift off.

 

*

 

He wakes up a few hours later, feeling well rested and alert. He looks over and finds Stiles still sleeping peacefully, and breathes a sigh of relief.

The spell worked.

He gives Stiles one last fond look before carefully slipping out of bed. As much as he’d like to stay, he needs to get dinner going. Stiles is going to need food as much as sleep, considering how light he felt when Derek picked him up earlier.

Once he gets the casserole in the oven, he ends up relaxing on the couch, the tv on low.

It’s not long after that he hears Stiles come down the stairs. He shuffles over to the couch, blinking sleepily.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Derek says.

“Hmm?” Stiles says, sitting down next to Derek. _Right_ next to him, so close there’s no space between them. “No, I just got cold,” he says, cuddling further against Derek’s side.

He can’t help smiling at the way Stiles just sort of melts into him, clearly comfortable. He snags the blanket off the back of the couch, tucks it in around Stiles.

“Don’t fall asleep again just yet,” Derek says when Stiles nuzzles his face against Derek’s neck, clearly planning to settle in. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, pulling away and stifling a yawn. “I won’t fall asleep.”

He falls asleep thirty seconds later.

Derek wakes him up in time to eat, then lets him doze off again. He goes into the kitchen to clean up, then decides to give Scott a call, let him know the spell is working.

Scott, who hasn’t seen Stiles sleep in a month, can’t quite believe it’s really happening, so Derek snaps a picture with his phone and sends it.

He tells himself that he’ll delete it, but he can’t seem to make himself actually do it. Stiles looks so comfortable and peaceful, and it’s a memory Derek wants to keep.

He finishes washing the dishes, then carries Stiles up to bed. He barely stirs when Derek lifts him, and settles immediately when Derek says, “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Stiles blinks at him tiredly when Derek hovers at the edge of the bed, trying to decide if he wants to stay, or go back downstairs. “Come on,” Stiles says quietly. “I’ll sleep better if you’re sleeping too.”

That’s all it takes to convince Derek.

He’s tucked up against Stiles immediately, settling against him and letting his eyes slide closed.

 

*

 

When he wakes up the next morning, Stiles is still curled against his chest. It the soft light of morning, Derek can see that he’s looking a lot less ragged and a lot more rested.

He takes a shower and pads downstairs to make breakfast. Stiles doesn’t get up, but that’s okay. Derek’s just happy that he’s actually sleeping.

He sits down on the couch, idly flipping channels, and briefly allows himself to wonder why Stiles would pick _him_. Hell, Stiles hadn’t even thought Derek would be willing to _hold_ him that first night. Obviously he knows better now, but what had made him decide on Derek at the vet clinic?

Almost as if summoned, Stiles comes ambling down the stairs, yawning and scrubbing a hand through his hair. 

“It’s late, isn’t it?” he asks, squinting at the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“It’s a little after noon,” Derek confirms.

“Guess I missed breakfast, then,” Stiles says, flopping down next to Derek. “I’m not really hungry, though.”

“That’s okay,” Derek says, though he’s a little worried about Stiles’ appetite. “You’re getting the rest you need.”

“It’s weird to actually sleep,” Stile says, leaning his cheek against Derek’s shoulder. “But the spell is definitely working.”

Derek thinks about asking right then, but he doesn’t want to put Stiles on guard. He can always ask when Stiles is more rested.

“It is,” Derek says. “You’re looking better already.”

And it’s true. Stiles looks less like a wax figure these days, and more like a real person.

“I _feel_ better,” Stiles says, lightly nuzzling his cheek against Derek’s arm. Derek’s not even sure he’s aware he’s doing it. “I’m still really tired, though.”

“Stiles, you barely slept for an entire month,” Derek says, shaking his head. “Of course you’re still tired.”

As if prompted, Stiles yawns hugely. Derek just smirks at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles grumbles. “You know what? Just for that, I’m gonna use you as a pillow.”

It’s not exactly a punishment, but Derek doesn’t tell him that. He just lets Stiles pointedly slide down and rest his head against Derek’s thigh.

“Surprisingly comfortable,” he pronounces, settling in. “Just don’t flex,” he adds warningly.

Derek grins down at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, smoothing his hand down Stiles’ arm.

He spreads the blanket over Stiles, making sure to tuck it around him. This is already feeling like a habit, almost routine, but it’s definitely something Derek could get used to.

 

*

 

Stiles ends up rolling over and shoving his face into Derek’s stomach, which makes Derek laugh, which in turn wakes Stiles up and makes him peer grumpily at Derek.

“Told you not to flex,” he grumbles sleepily.

“Sorry,” Derek says, scratching at his stomach. “You tickled me.”

Stiles blinks at him uncomprehendingly for several long moments. “Oh,” he says finally. “I’ll try not to do it again.”

“It’s okay,” Derek says, lightly ruffling a hand through Stiles’ hair. “It just took me by surprise, is all.” Not to mention that his whole body feels extra-sensitive around Stiles, like it’s always anticipating something.

“A ticklish werewolf,” Stiles muses idly, a little smirk on his face. “You know that, when I’m not so tired, I’m going to take full advantage of that information, right?”

“I was afraid of that,” Derek says with a little smile of his own.

Hey, Stiles is more than welcome to _try._

 

*

 

Derek discovers after a week or so, that while Stiles _can_ sleep on his own, he does much better if Derek is there, too. And he doesn’t even have to be sleeping. He just has to be present.

Which means that Stiles will follow him everywhere, and then promptly fall asleep on him.

He briefly worries that Stiles is developing narcolepsy, but then reminds himself that recovery is a lot slower for humans than it is for werewolves.

It’s no big deal around the loft, where Stiles will sometimes fall asleep at the kitchen table, his hand curled around Derek’s forearm. Or on the couch, head tipped against Derek’s shoulder or thigh. But he also falls asleep in the car, or at the pack meetings, dozing against Derek’s side.

Stiles should be interested in what’s going on, but instead he’s just sleepy, and Derek begins to worry that the spell is working _too_ well.

He seems to be the only one concerned, though. Every time Stiles falls asleep around the pack, they all just look relieved. Scott in particular seems the most pleased, and sends Derek grateful looks every time they’re around each other. It’s kind of strange, but he’s glad Scott thinks he’s taking good care of Stiles.

Because Stiles means a lot to him, and Derek sees no point in trying to pretend otherwise.

 

*

 

Derek makes Stiles go with him to the grocery store, and then has to forbid him from climbing into the cart. He wants at least a little bit of the alert, active Stiles he used to know.

“No sleeping,” he says firmly. “I need you to help me pick stuff out.”

“I _can_ stay awake,” Stiles says dryly. “Just so you know.”

But considering that Derek had to wake him up from the short drive over here, he’s not too convinced. “Sure,” he says mildly. “Go pick out some vegetables you like.”

Stiles gives him a vaguely disgusted look, but he goes. And he does a good job of staying awake, except for the time Derek catches him dozing next to the rotisserie chickens.

Still, he considers the trip a success.

Especially when Stiles stays awake for the drive back, debating with Derek about what they should make for dinner.

 

*

 

Derek calls Deaton the next morning, while Stiles is still asleep. “Stiles is sleeping a lot. Almost around the clock,” Derek says when he answers.

“Hmm, it’s been what? Two weeks since the spell?” Deaton asks, and Derek can hear the rusting of papers in the background.

“Almost three,” Derek corrects.

“Then that seems in line with the amount of sleep deprivation he was experiencing. His sleeping should start to taper off in another week,” Deaton says in his sure, unflappable way.

“Okay,” Derek says, feeling relieved. “I’ve just been worried that the spell is working too well.”

“Too well?” Deaton repeats, sounding curious. “What do you mean?”

“Stiles falls asleep all the time, and pretty much anywhere.”

“That…was the intended effect,” Deaton says. “Is his sleeping putting him into danger?”

“No,” Derek says, feeling a little chagrined. “He only falls asleep in safe places. I just thought I would have more to do with it.”

“You mean, he’s falling asleep without you also having to sleep?”

“Yes,” Derek says. “Though he likes to sleep near me, if he can.”

Deaton makes a quiet noise, like Derek’s confirmed something for him. “The spell is working as it should. I’d told Stiles that whoever he picked would have an effect of the power of the spell itself.”

“Is that why he picked me?” Derek asks, his whole body straightening with interest. “For a certain effect?”

“If you want to know why Stiles chose you, you should ask him yourself,” Deaton says, right back to being enigmatic. “Goodbye, Derek.”

Derek doesn’t bother trying to ask anything else, or to keep him on the line. He just listens for the click of Deaton hanging up the phone, and with a sigh, does the same.

 

*

 

Stiles comes downstairs a little while later, eats some of the leftover bacon and eggs, and actually manages to stay awake for an entire episode of Jeopardy. Derek suspects that’s mainly because he loves yelling out the answers so much, but still.

It’s progress.

And it’s good to see Stiles interested in something again. It gives Derek a strangely pleasant sense of normalcy.

However, Stiles starts to get tired again as the afternoon wears on.

“Come take a nap with me,” he says, nudging Derek encouragingly in the side.

“You don’t need me to,” Derek says as neutrally as possible. He’s still thinking about what Deaton said.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ you to,” Stiles says, a little more plaintively. “Besides, I always sleep better if you’re there.”

“All right,” Derek concedes. It does seem like a nice day to lay in bed. “Let’s go.”

Stiles beams at him, and is up the stairs in a heartbeat.

Derek changes and slides into bed, and realizes that there’s absolutely no hesitation from Stiles now. He immediately curls against Derek, and squirms restlessly until Derek’s arms come around him and hold him close.

They do this every night, too, and it’s nice. It’s _so nice_. It makes Derek’s rough edges feel smoother, makes him feel like he can let go of the tension he’s been holding for so long.

And that worries him.

He’s afraid his wants are being transmitted through the spell, making Stiles act in ways he wouldn’t typically. And after everything that’s happened, he doesn’t want to be someone controlling Stiles, not in any way.

But he’s not going to wake Stiles up to talk about it, not when he’s so relaxed, his head pillowed on Derek’s shoulder.

So he just gently pulls the covers up over them, and lets himself drift off to sleep.

 

*

 

Stiles is awake before Derek is this time, but he doesn’t seem too inclined to move. Derek is quite content with the snuggling, so he’s not particularly inclined to make him.

Stiles shifts a little when Derek glances at him, but only to tuck his hand under Derek’s hip, and to nestle his cheek against Derek’s chest.

“You know, for a really muscular werewolf, you’re surprisingly comfortable,” Stiles says idly.

“It’s because I’m not flexing,” Derek says dryly.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Stiles mumbles against his collarbone. “It’s just nice to know that you’re not tense all the time.”

“No,” Derek says quietly. “Not around you.”

There’s a long, peaceful silence, before Derek finally asks, “Do you think there’s any way I’m influencing you through the spell?”

“You mean, besides sleep?” Stiles says thoughtfully. “Deaton said you might also transfer some hunger or thirst, but nothing else would be possible.”

“I only ask because of this,” Derek says, holding Stiles a little closer. “Since you so rarely touch anyone, I’m a little surprised by this.”

Stiles lifts his head then, looking startled. “Well, you hardly touch anyone either, so I’m still surprised you let me cuddle with you.”

“Just because I don’t ask, doesn’t mean it’s not something I want,” he says softly. “I was afraid I was somehow compelling you to do this, because I wanted it so much.”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “I thought you were snuggling with me only because I wanted you to. Especially since you hardly sleep when I do anymore.”

“Because you don’t need me to,” Derek says. “Which I also didn’t expect. Deaton said something about the power of the spell being effected when I asked. Do you know what he meant?”

Stiles lets out a little sigh, and sits all the way up. Derek does the same, letting his shoulder stay in contact with Stiles’.

“So, when Deaton told me about the spell, he told me I’d have to choose who it’d be cast on. And my relationship to them would make a difference in the strength of the spell.”

“In what way?” Derek asks, eager to finally get some answers.

“If it was someone I only considered an acquaintance, the spell would be very weak. I would only fall asleep when they did, and I would also wake the moment they did.”

“Which wouldn’t be very useful,” Derek says.

“No. So if I picked someone who I was close friends with, it would work as he described—I would sleep when they did, but could stay asleep when they woke up. Though there was a chance I could still have nightmares.”

Derek doesn’t miss the way Stiles finches when he says _nightmares_ , and he drapes his arm across Stiles’ back, trying to reassure.

Stiles leans into it, takes a deep breath. “But if I picked someone I cared about a lot, someone I had a strong emotional attachment to, then the spell would work the best. No nightmares, and I likely wouldn’t even have to wait and sleep when they did.”

“So that’s what he meant,” Derek muses, thoughtful. “But then, why would you pick me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Stiles says, his voice tight. “I thought you had to know.”

“Know what?” Derek says, feeling like he’s missing something important. “I didn’t think you even considered us friends, so I can’t imagine why you’d choose me.”

“Derek,” Stiles says quietly. “It’s because I’m in love with you.”

Derek stares at him, disbelieving. “You’re in love with _me_?”

“And see, Deaton warned me. He told me that my exhaustion and the spell itself would make it harder for me to be distant. That I’d be more likely to do all the things I’ve been resisting for so long. Which is why I’ve been acting the way I’ve been,” Stiles says, looking anxious, maybe even ashamed.

And Derek just won’t stand for that.

“There’s a reason I asked if it was possible for me to effect the spell. It was because you were always wanting to be with me, and sleep next to me, and it was everything I’d ever wanted. So I thought you might be doing it because of me.”

It’s Stiles’ turn to look surprised. “You really wanted that?”

“I was…I was so grateful when you picked me. That you trusted me that much. And I agreed to do it immediately,” Derek says.

“And why was that?” Stiles asks, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile.

“Because I’m in love with you,” Derek says with a smile of his own.

Stiles reaches out, trails his fingers down the edge of Derek’s jaw. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time,” he says softly, leaning in to give Derek a lingering kiss. He pulls away, grinning. “And hey, we already know we’re good at sleeping together.”

“That we are,” Derek says easily, tugging Stiles closer. “But you know, more practice is always better.” And he kisses Stiles again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
